


Beneath Your Beautiful

by SweetTale4u



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetTale4u/pseuds/SweetTale4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only he could see her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath Your Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This song was inspired by a song I have heard on the radio a lot lately “Beneath Your Beautiful,” by Labrinth and Emeli Sande. I don’t usually go for or write song fics, not that this is one, just that the lyrics always reminded me of this pairing. Maybe it’s just my imagination. However it is a one shot that I hope you enjoy. Reviews are always appreciated.

It had been years since the war ended.

She was untouchable. A hero. She keeps the men at bay, not even her childhood loves can come close to her anymore. She is above reproach; she is a warrior, a queen. A white queen, untouched, unloved, undisturbed. The white queen to his dark knight.

She turns them all away. Her walls are high; it makes it difficult for them to climb them. After a while, no one tries.

Everyone but him, he could see beyond those walls.

_It doesn’t scare him._

She is alone in her feigned perfection. She has carried on for so long, he wonders if she even knows who she is anymore.

_Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?_

He knew it was all a façade. She ached, ached for something more.

She kept her head held high, waving to the adoring public, on display for all to see but not touch. He watched her. He felt the ache. He had it too.

He wanted to see.

_Would you let me see beneath your perfect?_

He was damaged. He had always been. He recognized the signs. He could see a kindred soul.

Her walls are high, yet he can easily see inside. Like a child she hid away, building them higher and stronger. Like a shield, protecting her very self. No one would see the scared little girl. The one that craved perfection and hungered for acceptance, that yearned for a challenge.

He could see her.

He could smell her.

He wanted to climb her ivory tower. He wanted to fall into her, to quell her aching soul with his own. Her haunting melody called to him. It robbed him of sleep. It burrowed into his very psyche.

He needed to see.

_Take it off now girl, let me see inside._

She has been this way for so long. She avoids his eyes. Because she knows, she knows he can see inside her, he can read her like the dusty tomes in his library.

_What is going on in that beautiful mind of yours?_ He wonders as he passes her in the corridor. She pauses and he sees the small chinks in her armor.

It is days before he sees her again. It is of his own doing. He wants her to want; he needs her to come apart. He needs to unravel her very soul. So he makes her wait. This time when he passes her he caresses her hand.

He could smell her. He doesn’t stop. His hand burns from the minute contact.

Next time in the ministry, it is in the lift that he leans in behind her and inhales her scent. Her face reddens; the flush of warmth is visible to no one but him. His fingers softly touch hers. She doesn’t pull away.

The lift stops and he leaves, she leans against the back wall. Unable to move, her legs won’t hold her long.

_You’ve carried on too long like this; you couldn’t stop if you tried._

He was slowly breaking through those walls she had built up around her. He wanted to see beneath her beautiful façade. He wanted to fall into it with her. He wanted to heal his soul with her flawed one. They were two halves of the same coin. Never before had he felt this kinship to anyone. Beautifully flawed in her imperfections, she was his epitome. His mouth watered at the thought of her taste, to suckle at her innocence, to devour the marrow of her very soul.

She would be his.

So she came to him.

Always so eager to learn.

“Please don’t hurt me…” she whispered. She was facing the wall in his room, her back to him.

“Never…” his voice was thick with need, with hunger, desire.

“Why me?”

“It is all your perfect imperfections Miss Granger. They seep through your beautiful.” His fingers coiled into her stray curls, his hands dancing over the creamy expanse of her exposed back.

“I need…”

“Shhh Miss Granger, let me show you what you need. Let me see beneath your perfect tonight.”

And he did.

And she was perfect. 


End file.
